


Moments For You

by Bagginsbabe221b



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Phobias, Slow Burn, Victor is a therapist, Yuuri is an up and coming skater, Yuuri is stubborn, past character injury, pov switching, victor is clueless
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26584030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bagginsbabe221b/pseuds/Bagginsbabe221b
Summary: Yuuri is an up and coming figure skater with an intense fear of germs, especially when performing on the ice. Victor is a therapist. Once a popular figure skater himself, he's been studying Yuuri for the past six years, building a case to finally try and help Yuuri overcome his fears in order to skate to his full potential.But it's not easy. Yuuri is stubborn and Victor refuses to acknowledge that his reasons for helping Yuuri might run deeper than his phobias. It's all a little overwhelming for both of them until they realize that in order to move past their personal issues, they need to lean on each other for support.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was originally inspired by the manga Ten Count, but it quickly evolved into someone a lot more in depth for Yuuri and Victor. If you've read Ten Count, you'll definitely see some similarities. 
> 
> Not beta'd. I apologize for any mistakes. I hope you enjoy!

The fluttering of the first chords flew through the air, propelling Yuuri into his free program. As the rhythm sped, so did Yuuri. He made his way across the ice, letting his body move fluidly with the music. A slight tightness constricted his chest, a normal occurrence right before his first jump. It was always like this. Part of it was his anxiety, setting himself up for failure and the aftermath of said failure. Most of it, though, was his debilitating fear of falling on the ice. Not because it meant loss of points, nor for fear of injury. It was because of his intense disgust for the uncleanliness of the ice. There were multiple people on the ice before Yuuri, he knew this. Dirt, sweat, even blood could be lurking within the finely etched skate marks. It was a constant battle between elegance of the program and avoidance of falling, resulting in his bare skin touching the ice. 

The first jump, a quad salchow, came and went without trouble. Yuuri spent so much time focusing on the jumps that he knew with almost certainty that he could land without fear of falling, but it was never a guarantee. At today’s performance, there was nothing in particular bothering Yuuri besides the usual. His jumps as of late had been near flawless, his step sequence exquisite. His coach had been focusing on keeping Yuuri’s mind on the program itself, as if he had blinders on, thinking of nothing but the move of his body. Yes, things were going smooth. He continued into his step sequence, clearing his mind of everything except the movement of his body. He swayed and spun, keeping his head level and his arms raised. It was this moment in the program when Yuuri usually felt as though he was floating. His body and mind, constantly at odds with himself, could be free from every caged moment of his life off the ice. He didn’t have to think about how he would survive flying on a plane, sandwiched between two germ-ridden travelers, or how he was going to avoid having a microphone shoved into his face, possibly even having to touch one. No, right now, he was free from those thoughts and fears. 

Well into the second half of his program, Yuuri positioned himself for his next jump, a quad toe loop. Like always, he dug his toe pick into the ice, propelling himself into the air. The angle was slightly off, though, and before he had the chance to correct himself, Yuuri was landing on his side, skin burning against the ice, sliding and hitting the side of the rink with a loud thud. Yuuri wasn’t injured, but it felt like his heart at stopped. It was racing at an impossible speed. His vision began to blur, hands shaking, lungs grasping for any semblance of air as Yuuri spiraled into a panic attack. Through the now hazy lens that Yuuri was viewing the stadium and rink, he could faintly make out a group of people heading towards him on the ice. 

_Oh god, oh god, please don’t touch me_ , was all Yuuri could think as the blurred figures became clearer into view. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying to god he at least wouldn’t throw up on the ice. Yuuri had experienced these episodes, but he was normally able to at least breathe through them enough to get himself off the ice. Not today. Today, his mind imprisoned him. The three medics reached for Yuuri when they arrived, gloved hands pausing when he flinched away. 

“Where does it hurt?” one of them asked, concern etched on their face. Yuuri kept his mouth closed, feeling the bile rise. 

“C’mon son, we gotta check so we don’t make things worse,” another chimed in. Yuuri tried to take a deep breath. It was shaky, but he managed to get air into his lungs. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought about what his coach had told him to do in times like these. 

_Close your eyes, breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. Concentrate on a singular point behind your eyelids_. Yuuri did just that, knowing that nothing would truly help his pathetic condition, but conceded to the idea of the medics helping him off the ice, so long as they didn’t touch his skin. Between staying on the filthy, cold ice or letting the medics’ gloved hands get him off the ice, he knew the latter was preferable, especially since he’d now been festering there for over two minutes.

“N-nothing hurts,” Yuuri croaked out. _Except my pride_ , he thought to himself. Okay, things were calming down enough for Yuuri to focus on his failure. Not the best topic to choose to focus on, but anything was better than the ice. The medics helped Yuuri up and, through the loud clapping ringing throughout the stadium, Yuuri skated to the exit. His heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest from the idea of the medics’ hands still lingering on him, but his breath had steadied. Once they were safely off, he spotted his coach who knew exactly what kind of state Yuuri would be in.

“Thanks, I’ll take it from here,” Coach said, trying to shoo the medics away. 

“We need to check him for injury,” one protested. Yuuri frantically glanced at his coach. Coach waved his hand.

“No need. Like I said, I can take it from here.” The medics lingered for a moment longer, contemplating, but eventually gave up after Coach glared once more at them. Yuuri made his way past the stands, multiple people staring, mostly with concerned expressions. He tried not to pay attention, instead focusing on his breathing. Now that no one was touching him, he could feel his heartrate drop and breathing even out. They found a quiet corner where Coach let Yuuri respond first. 

“Sorry, coach,” he whispered to the ground. His coach sighed. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Yuuri. Are you hurt?”

“No.” _I’m not injured, just fucked up in the head_. 

“Yuuri, look at me.” He does so. “I’m not upset. However, I really think you should consider seeking hel—” 

“No!” Yuuri cut off his coach, cheeks burning red with embarrassment.

“Look, I know we’ve been through this before, but there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Don’t you want to be the best you can be?” Deep down, Yuuri knew his coach was right. So many people sought help for mental illness, but it was hard enough for him to even acknowledge that he was fucked up, let alone talk to someone else about his failures. He’d decided a long time ago that this was simply the way he was. For the most part, he could manage. Yes, he was always focused on his surroundings, but was that such a bad thing? To be honest, Yuuri didn’t know how to be any different than how he was now. 

Yuuri stared at his coach, not responding to his faded plea for him to seek help. Coach sighed again. 

“I think it’s best if you take a little time to figure out what you want,” he said, blindsiding Yuuri. His eyes grew impossibly wide as he stared at his coach. 

“Wait, are you…?” Yuuri couldn’t finish his sentence. 

“I’m not kicking you out, Yuuri. I would never abandon you or your skating. I’m simply saying take the off season to really think about things. It’ll be good for you to take some time for yourself.”

“But—” Coach put his hand up. 

“Enough. That’s an order from your coach.” Yuuri huffed but didn’t protest. “I’ll take that as an agreement. Now, lets get you out of here.” Yuuri nodded but paused before they left the building for somewhere quieter. 

“I’ll just be a minute. I’ve gotta grab a few things.” Almost feeling back to normal, at least for him, Yuuri parted from his coach and made his way back in the crowd, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible as everyone around him was focused on the figure skating occurring on the ice.

***

Victor sat in the stands, watching as Yuuri took the ice, seemingly confident and aware of himself. He knew this was far from the case, though. Yuuri had a talent of fooling those around him. That is, until he couldn’t. The music started light; a sweet innocence to it. Victor knew it well. He’d gone to almost all of Yuuri’s performances this season. It was routine in the last few years. At first it was strictly for observational purposes, but the more he witnessed Yuuri’s movement on the ice, the more enamored he became. Now his attendance morphed into that of a fan. Indeed, Victor was at once someone who wished to watch Yuuri’s beautiful moments on the ice while helping him with his crippling actions off ice. 

So far, Victor understood that, as long as Yuuri did not fall on the ice, he could push through it. He’d seen the result of falls before. The first time, six years ago, when Yuuri was young and eager, resulted in little more than an ill-fated second half of the program due to stress and anxiety from touching the ice. This was before Victor had finished school, but he was immediately drawn to his symptoms. At the time, it wasn’t enough to convince Victor, but things only progressed from there. During Skate Canada some three years ago, Yuuri had his first panic attack on the ice from missing his quad salchow. It was easy enough to cover up as an injury. Physical injuries were easier to understand than mental illness. The audience understood them, could grasp the very realness and severity of them. Victor knew this all too well.

As Victor watched Yuuri through the first half of his free skate, he began to worry. Yuuri’s body was moving beautifully to the music, but his face was beginning to pale in comparison.

_He’s worried_ , Victor thought, checking his watch that he’d set the time of Yuuri’s program to. 2:10, only just into his second half. He imagined Yuuri’s heartrate, already elevated from the exertion, frantically attempting to keep up with his mind and body. By the time he prepared himself for his next jump, Victor was holding his breath. 

_The angle is off, goddammit. You’re nearly parallel to the ice_. Victor’s thoughts scrambled in his mind as he watched Yuuri slide on the ice and knock himself against the barrier. For a few moments, Victor couldn’t see Yuuri. There were too many people craning their own bodies towards the inevitably curious sight before them. Normally, when Yuuri had an episode, there was an easy enough way to play it off as an injury, or an off day, or even sickness. However, Yuuri was getting older, more popular, and as a result, the spotlight was burning a hole into his carefully constructed bubble. Victor had gradually seen the destruction, piece by piece, as the press, reporters, and fans began to speculate just what exactly was off with Katsuki Yuuri. 

Two minutes passed and Yuuri was still on the ground. Victor ground his teeth together. 

_Get it together long enough to get off the ice, Yuuri_. Victor did not want Yuuri to suffer anymore. This was, after all, why he was here. Why he’d been here for so many years, slowly building his case and preparing himself for the right moment to approach him. He needed to help Yuuri. Victor couldn’t exactly place why he’d latched onto him in particular. Yuuri wasn’t anything spectacular in his younger years, but he stood out for some reason. Victor supposed he simply wanted to know more, to discover and learn and guide Yuuri to a more calm and soothing mental space. 

_Yes_ , Victor thought, _Yuuri deserved better for himself_. Victor didn’t have the means, knowledge, or ability to help him in the past, but he did now, and that was exactly what he intended to do. He watched as Yuuri was guided off the ice. His expression showed that of anguish. Spectators would speculate injury. Victor knew it was pain, but not physical. As the murmurs grew, Victor stood, making his way off the stands in search of his potential patient. 

He found Yuuri heading towards the doors, gloved hands holding his skating bag. There were very few moments in the past that Victor might’ve had the chance to talk with him in private. He was fairly certain that Yuuri knew who Victor was, but whatever the case, he didn’t want to push himself and his ideas onto him too quickly. With all the preparation and decisions on Victor’s side, he felt ready to take the next step. Especially after tonight’s events, Victor was confident in his eminent diagnosis and treatment. It was up to Yuuri now. 

“Yuuri Katsuki,” Victor’s voice rang out, echoing in the empty space. Yuuri faltered and paused. He didn’t turn around right away. Victor thought he saw him shoulders visibly sag before Yuuri slowly turned. His eyes grew only a fraction wider. 

“Uh, Victor Nikiforov? W-what are you doing here?” His voice wavered. Victor expected this reaction. He wasn’t unknown, per se. In fact, he was probably more well-known for his accident and subsequent lifestyle change than his actual skating career. He flashed Yuuri a bright smile; too bright for the circumstances. 

“I hope you are feeling alright. I was wondering if you have a moment. I’d like to speak with you about something,” he said in as smooth and calm voice as he could manage. Yuuri stood still, not attempting to walk away or move towards Victor. 

“I…my coach is waiting for me,” he said, his body leaning slightly towards the doors that led outside. In the six years that Victor has been observing Yuuri, this was his first in person attempt at convincing him. He knew it wouldn’t be easy. 

“It’ll only take a moment.” He raised his gloved hand towards a small hallway, as if encouraging Yuuri to follow and listen. A few more moments passed before Yuuri slumped even further but made his way towards the quiet hallway. Victor smiled again, this time a sweetness hovering over his face, eyes crinkling, attempting to calm him. They stood a few feet apart from each other. Victor didn’t attempt to move closer. 

“So, what is it you want?” Yuuri got straight to the point. Victor noted that, beyond his slightly flushed cheeks and remnants of sweat shining on his face, he looked relatively normal. Victor took a deep breath. He had to do this right or it would never work. 

“Do you know I’ve been following your skating since your senior debut six years ago?” Yuuri’s eyes grew wider in surprise. 

“W-what?”

“Your skating depicts that of beauty and pain. I’ve seen the way you sway, at once allowing yourself to be overcome with the emotion of the music yet in control of your body. You are unique, Yuuri.” Yuuri opened his mouth to respond, but Victor wanted to make sure to get out everything he had promised he would before propositioning him. “But I know what you’d really love while on the ice is to forget about your fears.” Victor could hear Yuuri quietly gasp. “Yuuri, wouldn’t you like to skate without the fear of triggering an attack in the middle of a performance?” Victor watched as Yuuri took a step back.

“No, no. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I fell, yes, but I’m fine.” Victor gave Yuuri a pitying smile. In turn, he searched his eyes, silently begging for him to stop pursuing this.

“It’s okay, Yuuri. You don’t have to keep hiding. I only want to help you.” Victor guessed that Yuuri was a fan of Victor’s when he was younger. Most people at least knew who he was. Rising star in the figure skating arena. He frowned for the first time since finding Yuuri tonight. “You must know what I do. I can help you,” he said, realizing too late that his grasp on Yuuri was faltering at an alarmingly fast rate. Yuuri took another step towards the main hall and subsequent front doors. 

“I’m sorry, but I c-can’t. It’s not you. I think you’re great. I mean, I thought you were great. I…ugh, I’ve gotta go. Thank you for…mmhfm.” The last bit of Yuuri’s frantic mumbling was cut off when he wrapped a knitted scarf around his neck and fast walked to the doors. Victor didn’t run after him. It wouldn’t do any good. He simply watched him go, witnessing Yuuri push against the door with his upper arm instead of using his gloved hand. Victor smirked, wondering just how exactly he was going to convince Yuuri to give him a chance.


	2. Surprise Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri questions why Victor approached him. Victor comes to Yuuri's home unannounced, making him run away again. Victor gives him some space, instead finding out just how much Yuuri is interested in him. (yes, these are probably how awful these chapter summaries will be XD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! A quick side note, most of the chapters in this series will be fairly short, but as we get further into the story, more exciting things will happen I promise!  
> Enjoy!

Yuuri carried a pile of freshly washed and folded towels to the changing rooms at his family onsen. He placed them in their respective cubbies, taking care not to let any unfold. His hands were covered by his gloves. Unlike the black leather gloves that he wore in public or on the ice, these gloves were a more causal, lightweight glove made of tight-fitting spandex and polyester. He’d done quite a bit of research a few years back in order to find the best option for his situation. It had gotten to the point where he couldn’t really touch anything in public with his bare hands and the leather was getting excessively hot, especially during the warmer months. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but Yuuri was pleased with how much more he was able to go out. Sure, he couldn’t eat at restaurants or drink at bars, but he could now semi-comfortably be with his few close friends without too much fuss. Yes, it wasn’t so bad, being like this. 

Yuuri glanced out of the glass windows at the onsen. There were a few people relaxing in the warm water, the steam rising around their bodies. Once upon a time, Yuuri also loved to relax in the onsen, especially after particularly brutal skating sessions. Now, as he watched the slick ground accumulate more residual water, his stomach flipped uncomfortably. He could feel his heart rate rise slightly at the thought of sharing the water with these visitors. It took him a moment to remind himself that there was no need to worry. No one was making him do anything he didn’t want to. Nothing could infect him from here. Every time he’d see the hardly hidden concern etched on his family’s faces, on Minako’s and the Nishigori’s, he desperately wanted to escape. Normally, escape meant the ice rink or his room. Once that happened, no one pushed him, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Yuuri couldn’t explain it to them, his gradual decline into how he was today. He didn’t _want_ them to know more than they needed to. 

Once Yuuri made it into the main area, he ran into his mom cooking. 

“Oh Yuuri! Would you like some katsudon? It’s fresh.” Yuuri shook his head.

“I’m heading to my room first. I’ll be back down in a little bit.” He left his mom to her cooking and made his way to his room, closing the door as he stepped inside. It was a fairly ordinary room, not cluttered or overly decorated. Normally if Yuuri was feeling down, he’d lay on his bed and listen to music, usually his skating programs in order to get acclimated to his routine. Today, however, he made his way to the closet, moving various things out of the way until he was in the very back. He dragged out a large rectangular box and let it fall to the floor. When he opened it, Victor Nikiforov’s face stared back at him, youthful and as beautiful as ever. 

Yuuri sighed. With his gloved hand, he carefully pulled out a few of the posters, laying them on the floor. The coloring on a few were dulled. Some had light creases in them. Part of him was disappointed in their condition, but it also meant that they were well admired on his walls for so many years. Only a couple years ago had he finally decided to take them down. On some nights, it became too painful to think about. 

_Why? Why would you suggest that?_ Yuuri thought to himself. He couldn’t understand why Victor had offered his help, let alone approach him at a competition. What was he to him? It made no sense. He’d tried so hard to keep his phobia and anxiety a secret from the skating world. For the most part, he thought he was succeeding. Granted, this last competition was a complete failure. Nevertheless, the result was still slated as an injury that halted Yuuri’s program. If Victor knew about his issues, who else? Of course, he knew that Victor had gone to school for physical therapy after the end of his career. He even knew that, for a reason unknown to him, Victor had rather abruptly switched to neurological-based therapy. Yuuri had kept a small foot in Victor’s life after he was out of the spotlight, but it wasn’t nearly enough to understand who he was or what his intentions were. Now, he turns up at one of Yuuri’s competitions and asks to _help him_. 

“Ridiculous.” Yuuri pushed aside one of the posters he was staring at with a loud _huff_. He heard a couple knocks on his door then, his sister cracking it and peering in.

“Thought that was you,” she said, a cigarette hanging from her mouth. 

“Oh, hey Mari.” He began to place the posters back in the box. Mari glanced down and watched him for a few seconds in silence. 

“Haven’t seen those in a while. What’re you doing with them? Finally going to sell them?” There was a hint of a smile on her face. Yuuri did not return it. 

“No, just looking through them. Besides, you know it’d do no good selling them.”

“Oh c’mon, it’s still Victor Nikiforov. Wasn’t he, like, the top figure skater back then?” Yuuri gave Mari an annoyed look. 

“Yes, more than six years ago. He’s not really in the public eye anymore.”

“Hmm.” Mari pulled her cigarette out of her mouth and help it in her hand. “Maybe that’s what he ultimately wanted. You know, after everything that went down. I’d be done with the press too.” Yuuri placed the rest of the posters in the box gently and closed it. He sighed, wanting to be done with this particular topic. He stood, fixing his gloves. Mari glanced at his hands. 

“ _That_ hasn’t gotten any better, has it?” Mari was the only one in the family that was blunt enough to feel comfortable asking Yuuri about his condition. Yuuri, on the other hand, wished Mari was like everyone else: embarrassed for him and respectful enough to stay out of it unless he brought it up. 

“Could you not smoke in here? It makes me jittery.” Mari gave Yuuri what he believed to be a pitying look before turning to leave. 

“Dinner will be ready soon. Will you eat?” Yuuri looked down at his hands. 

“Yes. Oh! Mari, will you tell mom to set out a disposable pair of chopsticks?” Mari sighed, but nodded her head before closing the door, leaving Yuuri alone again.

The next day it snowed. These were Yuuri’s favorite days because it meant that he could go out without worrying about his gloves. The colder months provided him with the ability to almost blend in. Gloves weren’t weird in the winter. Neither were long sleeves or coats. It’s what kept Yuuri sane when on the ice as well. Gloves, sleeves, even ear coverings were typical at ice rinks. He spent most of his time outside of his house hiding and pretending. At first, it was exhausting, but he’d gotten used to it. Now, it was only on rare occasions that he thought anything of it. 

On this snowy day, Yuuri was preparing for a jog. Since going into the off season, he knew his main goal was to contemplate what he ultimately wanted. He wanted to skate, he knew that. He also knew that to skate freely meant to change, to fix himself, but Yuuri couldn’t fathom how he’d manage that in such a short time. It was impossible. These things couldn’t be helped. It was what Yuuri had been telling himself for so many years now. In order to silence the growing anxiety inside his head, Yuuri often took light jogs around Hasetsu or along the beach. It helped distract him from himself. Plus, the cold months kept people away. 

On his way out, he heard a commotion coming from the front of the house. As he rounded the corner, already prepared to go outside, he saw Victor standing in the doorway, attempting to keep his dog from knocking down Yuuri’s father down and licking his face furiously. Victor’s face was flushed red, most likely from the cold and wind, and he was bundled in a peacoat, scarf, and black leather gloves. 

_He is gorgeous_ , was the first thing that went through Yuuri’s head. For an incredibly stupid moment, Yuuri forgot about his predicament, about Victor’s all-but-plea not one month ago for Yuuri’s acceptance. For one moment that he desperately wanted to hold onto, Yuuri believed that things were different. But they weren’t and that simple acknowledgement was harder for him to face than his actual fears. How long had he wanted to be in the same room as Victor when they were both skaters; Yuuri a young and inexperienced one and Victor a matured, top of the ranks one. Now, Victor was no longer on the ice while Yuuri could barely stand being on it. No, the current situation was more than a little overwhelming and confusing. Yuuri could never think about simple pleasures. He didn’t have the time or energy. 

Once Victor calmed his dog and stopped laughing, he finally glanced up and met Yuuri’s eyes. Yuuri gasped and immediately reverted his eyes to the ground. He heard Victor’s footsteps approach. 

“Yuuri, it’s good to see you.” His voice, so close, heated through Yuuri’s layers. He couldn’t respond. “I thought we didn’t have enough time to talk before. I wanted to try again,” he said, not attempting to reach out or move. Yuuri kept his head down. He didn’t know what to do. So many questions were penetrating his mind. He couldn’t concentrate. The only thing that pushed through the multitude of questions was _run_. He was going to go for a jog, why not run? He was a coward anyway. This would only confirm it further. 

Yuuri let his body lurch forward, propelling him towards the door and outside. He briefly heard protests behind him, some from his father about being rude to a guest and the other simply his name being called by Victor. He didn’t stop to listen. 

***

Victor watched as Yuuri frantically made his way out the door and into the snowy morning. Makkachin, who had stopped attacking who Victor presumed to be Yuuri’s father, was now furiously wagging his tail. Before Victor had the chance to hurry after Yuuri, he felt a light tug on his deep navy peacoat. He turned around to find Yuuri’s father holding onto his coat’s sleeve, a friendly smile spread across his face. 

“Leave him for now. He just needs time,” he said leading Victor into the main room, plopping him down at a table and handing him a bowl of food he’d had never seen before.

“Uh, thank you…”

“Toshiya. Or, you can call me Yuuri’s dad. And you must be Victor Nikiforov.” His smile hadn’t wavered. Victor jolted in his seat, though. He’d just arrived, how would Yuuri’s dad know who he was. Surely a parent, even one of a figure skater, wouldn’t remember him.

“Yes, I’m Victor. It’s nice to meet you.” After a few awkward moments of Toshiya staring at Victor and Victor staring at the food, he finally picked it up and hesitantly tasted it. A warm explosion of salty flavors spread in Victor’s mouth. “Wow, this is amazing,” he said, shoving more into his mouth, not bothering to worry about the heat. Toshiya smiled.

“Glad you like it. It’s Hiroko’s specialty, and Yuuri’s favorite.” Victor continued to stuff his face in front of a relative stranger until there was no more food left in the bowl. Since his skating days, Victor knew what he needed to do in order to keep a fairly toned body, but he also didn’t care to maintain such a strict regiment when there was no reason to hold onto it. It was difficult in the beginning; everything was difficult after skating. But gradually he became more comfortable in his skin. He was able to eat rich foods without the guilt and look at himself in the mirror with an ten extra pounds without frowning in disgust. It took some time, but Victor was finally comfortable. Besides, he was a therapist after all. He should practice what he preached. Now, he only felt satisfaction at finishing a bowl of this unknown dish in record time. 

Victor set down the bowl and sighed in contentment, forgetting about the man sitting across from him. He heard him laugh. Victor laughed in response. 

“I got carried away. Thank you for the food.” He glanced at the doors where Yuuri had left and still hadn’t returned. “Um, will he be okay?” Victor knew very little about Yuuri outside of skating and his condition. Where had he gone? Why had he run off so quickly?

“Oh yes, he’ll be fine. Probably just needed some air. It isn’t every day that his idol pops up at his home,” Victor glanced back at Toshiya. 

“Idol? You mean from when he was younger?” It would make sense. Yuuri is only four years his junior. Many skaters looked up to Victor when he was younger. Yuuri’s dad chuckled. 

“Oh no. He still admires you. Yes, he looked up to you when you skated, but it didn’t change when you didn’t anymore.” Victor felt his heart pound a little harder in his chest. That couldn’t be right. Victor essentially became an ordinary person overnight. Sure, Yuuri might’ve hung onto to his talent for a little while, but surely it would’ve faded over the years. Victor sighed. 

“Do you have any idea where he might’ve gone?” Victor stood with Toshiya. 

“Usually it’s the rink or the beach. Today, I’d guess the beach. No one will be there with this cold weather.” Victor nodded his head, thanked Yuuri’s dad for his kindness (it was almost alarmingly welcoming for Victor) and headed out the doors into the cold again. It wasn’t nearly cold enough for Victor to call it frigid, but the bite in the air nipped at his exposed cheeks. He wrapped his scarf around his face and made his way towards what he assumed to be the snow-covered beach. 

Yuuri was sitting on a large piece of driftwood, haphazardly wrapped in his lighter jacket and not-warm-enough scarf. When Victor had abruptly arrived at the onsen, he’d almost had a heart attack trying to scramble and escape the house. In his haste, he completely forgot it was this cold outside. Now, he was alone, sitting on a log with no reason to explain his rash behavior. Except for the fact that his idol, the recipient of his unrequited affection for the past however long showed up at his home unannounced with his _dog_. That was enough to rationalize his reaction, right? As Yuuri continued to monologue in abject horror to himself about his embarrassing behavior, he heard snow crunching behind him. He sighed, expecting no one to be stupid enough to come to the beach on a day like this. When he turned around, his eyes grew impossibly wide as he watched Victor struggle to make his way down the sandy, snowy path, cursing in Russian. Eventually, once Victor had safely made his way down, he glanced up and made eye contact with Yuuri, his face screwed up in discomfort. 

“Oh, Yuuri, hi!” Victor yelled from a short distance. Yuuri was glad the air was cold so the heat on his cheeks could be easily excusable. Finally, Victor made it to the driftwood, plopping down unceremoniously and sighing. “And here I thought skating was hard.” He chuckled, trying and failing to brush residual sand and snow off his leather shoes with his leather-clad gloved hands. Yuuri could feel his heartbeat accelerate, but he wasn’t sure if was because of Victor’s proximity or the fear of why he was here. They sat in silence for a few moments, Yuuri neither being able to come up with anything to say nor hearing anything over the thumping of his head. He knew by now that Victor wouldn’t push until Yuuri made the first move. He sighed and turned slightly towards him. 

“Um, are you okay?” he asked, his fingers intertwined, fidgeting with themselves. 

“Yes!” Victor’s excitement at Yuuri’s instigation was clear in his tone. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Realization dawned on him slowly. “Oh! You mean my leg?” Yuuri’s face burned in embarrassment. He hadn’t actually meant to bring it up, but he looked so frustrated making his way to where Yuuri sat, he couldn’t help but inquire. Instead of the expected anger or annoyance, Victor laughed. “This stupid thing is never super comfortable. It’s become normal to fe—” 

“Okay!” Yuuri said a little too loud, only wanting Victor to stop talking. He had to change the subject. “I-I mean, you seem to be in a good mood,” he said, stupidly. 

“I suppose I am. I’ve finally found you, after all.” Yuuri’s head snapped up, making eye contact for the first time with Victor. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? Why’re you here, Victor?” Yuuri was kicking the sand with his shoe, causing large quantities to fly into the air. 

“You know why I’m here, Yuuri.” Hearing Victor say his name caused Yuuri’s heart to race a little faster. 

“I told you already, it’s fine. You shouldn’t have come all this way.” It was true. Yuuri could barely share a closed space comfortably with anyone he didn’t personally know. As much as he’d like to think he knew Victor, he didn’t, not one bit. He was an old fan, like everyone else. 

“If you’d only listen to me, I think you might be interested. Please, give me a chance,” he said, standing. Yuuri half expected him to offer his hand to stand, which Yuuri would obviously decline. However, now that he thought about it, Victor hadn’t once tried to step into him space. It was subtle, but quite surprising coming from Victor. A twinge of guilt spread through Yuuri. He was once again causing someone he cared about change the way they might normally act. He knew how Victor used to be, touchy, the invader of personal space. That was most evident when he was in the skating world, but even the little that Yuuri was able to keep up with him in the last few years, he still seemed most comfortable when physically close to the people around him. Here, he kept his distance. So, maybe he knew a little more than Yuuri had originally thought. 

“Okay, fine. I’ll hear you out.” Victor’s eyes grew wide in excitement, his gloved hands clasping together in front of his bundled chest. 

“You will not regret this, Yuuri.” Yuuri was fairly positive he was going to regret this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's assume everyone just understands each other unless otherwise noted.   
> Also, I couldn't _not_ include Yuuri's posters of Victor.   
> I hope you enjoyed, and stick around for much more!


	3. Ten Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Victor talk through the situation. Yuuri agrees to go along with Victor, but with one condition...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is here! Sorry for the delay, but hopefully you enjoy!

Victor and Yuuri made their way back to the house. Victor didn’t try to stand any closer or make any moves that might make Yuuri uncomfortable, but Yuuri could still feel the heat coming from him. For the first time in years, Yuuri longed to step closer to someone. He felt the sharp anxiety of the idea cut through him, knowing that he wouldn’t actually step closer, but the thought settled in the back of his mind. When they arrived, Victor turned to Yuuri, a perpetual smile visible. 

“I haven’t told you, but you have a lovely home, Yuuri.” Yuuri blushed, trying to hide his face in his scarf. Yes, winter were his favorite months. So many ways to hide himself. 

“It’s nothing special, but thank you.”

“Oh! Also, your father, Toshiya is it? He fed me something delicious when you ran off. Do you know what it was? It had rice and fried pork I think. Oh, and a delicious sauce.”

“That’s katsudon. It’s my favorite too.” Victor could see a small smile spread across Yuuri’s face. This was the first time he’d seen one and it made his heart jump ever so faintly. He’d been studying him for so long, it only made sense that he’d grow a fondness towards him. This was different than watching Yuuri on the ice. For Victor, Yuuri’s performances on the ice radiated a certain somber eloquence that he’d never seen in any of the other competitors. Off the ice, however, he was quiet, reserved yet respectful. Victor wasn’t surprised by these characteristics. It made since, especially since Yuuri struggled with his anxiety and mysophobia for as long as he’s been studying him. There was more to Yuuri that Victor didn’t know, though, and it was this mystery that Victor longed to uncover the most. 

“I’m glad. We already have something in common.” A light blush remained on Yuuri’s cheeks. 

“Uhm, would you like to sit?” he waved his hand towards one of the tables. Victor nodded, sitting on a cushion. He waited for Yuuri, but before he sat, he went to a closet, pulled out a cushion that looked similar to the one Victor was sitting on, and set it down. This seemed routine, something that Yuuri did out of habit. When he sat, his dad popped out, his eyes lighting when he saw him and Yuuri together. 

“Ah, you found him,” he said, coming closer and placing attention on his son. He began talking in rapid Japanese with Yuuri, whose responses were just as quick. Victor, who had no hope of understanding what they were talking about, sat back and watched. Yuuri did not move from his carefully situated, seemingly sterile cushion. His still-gloved hands were sitting in his lap and his father stood a couple feet away. It was fascinating, watching Yuuri up close for the first time in so many years. Victor knew so much about him, mainly through his professional life, yet very little about his daily life. 

He took the time to glance over him. His hair was messy, down from his normal slicked back style on the ice. He was, of course, in fairly top shape, only recently going into the off season. Victor wondered if he had defined abs underneath his deep blue t-shirt, or if perhaps his abdomen was softly muscular. For a fraction of a moment, he felt his stomach flip uncomfortably. Why was he thinking about Yuuri’s stomach? 

_Well, it’s only fair to think about a professional skater’s body_ , Victor thought. He’d once focused on his figure, making sure to keep himself in shape and slim. That was a long time ago, though. He tried his best to keep an eye on his figure, but there was no need anymore beyond simple preferences. He continued to assess Yuuri, appreciating the glasses that he never wore on the ice. He settled on his lips, chapped as always. They were lump, though, the lower lip jutting out just so as if able to su—

“Victor!” Victor hadn’t realized he was staring rudely until he snapped out of his assessment. Yuuri was facing him, face almost all red now. So, he’d noticed Victor was staring. Great. He tried to lighten the mood by laughing. 

“I’m sorry, I got distracted,” he said. It wasn’t a lie, but for some reason he didn’t want to elaborate on _why_ he was distracted. In any case, Victor cleared his throat. He did promise an explanation. “So, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here.” Yuuri picked at his gloves. 

“Not so much why you’re here as why me specifically.” Victor huffed. Of course he’d already decided that it was impossible for Victor to be interested in him, yet why? Victor was no one anymore, definitely not in the spotlight like Yuuri. 

“I told you before, I took an interest in you when you first debuted in the senior division. By then, I was already in school, studying to become a therapist.”

“But you were working to become a physical therapist!” Yuuri blurt out without thinking. “Uh, I mean, you shifted rather abruptly to psychological-based therapies. Why?” Victor was surprised. Yuuri was much more interested in his personal life after skating than he originally thought. Either way, he didn’t really want to reveal his real reason why he’d switched professions. Not yet at least.

“Well, I…struggled with some things after the accident. Mainly PTSD and depression. I realized after I was already trying to distract myself with school that what I really wanted was to help those in a similar situation. Not physically, of course. At the time, I don’t think I could’ve even stepped foot in an ice rink.” Victor chuckled nostalgically. Yuuri, though, flinched. “Anyway, I first saw you perform before your senior debut and thought you had such raw talent. It was only when you showed signs of anxiety and mysophobia that I began really studying you.” There, only half a lie. Victor did begin to contemplate changing his area of study based on his own experiences, but it was solely Yuuri that propelled him forward. 

“Wait, so you’ve known about my…issues for _years_?” He blanched, staring at Victor with wide eyes. 

“Yes, that’s right. But I’ve only ever been watching from the stands. I thought that if I could finally be able to really help you, I could make an impact.” Yuuri didn’t respond, now staring at his intertwined hands in his lap. 

“It’s been getting worse,” he whispered, almost inaudible. He continued to stare at his hands. Victor longed to reach over and cup his cheek with is hand, to comfort him. He couldn’t fully understand what Yuuri was going through, but he had a fairly good feeling it wasn’t dissimilar from his own experiences. 

“I want to help,” was all Victor said. He’d come all this way, understanding that if Yuuri rejected him again, it would be the end. Six years of preparation and study, potentially gone with the uttering of one word. For the first time since Victor had made this decision, anxiety tightened around his chest. Could he accept Yuuri’s denial? He knew he wouldn’t have a choice. 

“Alright,” Yuuri whispered again. Victor’s heart fluttered. 

“What was that?” he asked, not sure if his mind was playing tricks on him. Finally, Yuuri looked up with intense eyes. 

“I said alright. I’ll let you help me.” Victor could feel his mouth opening in a wide smile. It was short-lived, though. Yuuri wasn’t done. “On one condition,” he continued. Victor calmed. 

“Okay, what is it?” Yuuri had kept his eye contact with Victor for the longest time since they’d been around one another. It was intoxicating and yet Victor couldn’t place why he was being pulled in. 

“Be my coach.” Victor’s jaw fell to the floor. 

***

Yuuri’s heart was pounding, but for the first time since he can remember, it had nothing to do with _fear_. He was watching Victor’s expression after just agreeing to something stupid in return for something stupider. As much as he wanted to run and hide from this beautiful man, he tried his best to stand his ground, desperately clutching onto this fantasy that they could potentially work together for any significant amount of time. So, Victor wanted to help him overcome his phobia and anxiety. Yuuri tried to convince himself that it was possible, that there was some way to cure his destructive behavior. He wanted to laugh at himself, but if it meant being closer to his childhood idol, then maybe he could try. 

Victor was silent for a few moments, mouth open in shock. Yuuri had expected this. It wasn’t like it was a reasonable request. Actually, it was outright idiotic and inconsiderate, but Yuuri never claimed to be _reasonable_. He wasn’t thinking, clearly. For the last six or so years, Yuuri has steadily been getting worse, slowly curling in on himself and shutting away from the outside world, except when it came to skating. Now, he knew he was at the point in his career where he couldn’t effectively hide anymore. Victor knew this too, that’s why he was here. At least, that’s what Yuuri imagined. Now he couldn’t help but make the request that he’d dreamed of for so many years. He knew what the answer would be. 

“Yuuri…” Victor trailed off, but the simple mention of his name sent Yuuri reeling. It was shocking, really, how much Yuuri yearned for Victor’s presence now that he was here. He’d spent so much time either admiring or following him from afar that now that he was in front of him, he couldn’t let go. No one would succeed in drawing Yuuri out of his own mind. 

_No one_ , Yuuri thought, _except maybe Victor_. Oh, who was he kidding? This was ridiculous. Stupid and childish.

“Look, I know it’s a lot to ask.” Yuuri said, cheeks burning from embarrassment. 

“There are so many factors that I couldn’t even begin to flesh out.”

“Well, you’re here, aren’t you? You were going to stay if I said yes. What was your plan then?” This caught Victor by surprise, his eyes growing wide in realization. 

“I…well yes I planned on staying here. I’m being funded by my doctorate program as a thesis of sorts.” Yuuri’s head snapped up. 

“So, use this as part of your research.” In the back of his mind, Yuuri thought he should stop. He knew everything public (and some private) about Victor since he was young. This was not the thing to fight for. Yet, that small part of his brain was struggling against his whole being, desperate for help and change. Victor sighed, and placed his hand against his forehead, brows furrowing. Then, he started laughing. It was an open-mouthed no-self-awareness kind of laugh. It caught Yuuri by surprise. Wiping a tear from his face, Victor finally glanced at Yuuri. 

“I’m sorry, I just. The thought of _me_ being a _coach_ is hilarious.” Yuuri’s heart dropped into his stomach. Was it so funny? “I mean, Yuuri, I haven’t stepped foot in an ice rink in over six years. I would be a horrible coach.”

“I don’t think so,” Yuuri whispered, almost to himself. “If you’re so focused on helping me, you’ll need to be around a lot of the time anyway, including at the rink.” Victor sighed again, staring at Yuuri with an expression of confusion and frustration. 

“Why?” Yuuri couldn’t answer that. He couldn’t explain even to himself why he was pushing so hard for this. It made absolutely no sense. Yuuri had never wanted something so much. He simply shook his head. Victor sighed again. “I don’t want you to feel like we are making a deal based on your treatment. I want you to feel comfortable enough to allow me to help. So, for right now, I will go with you to your practices and support you, but I cannot promise anything beyond that. If you cannot accept this, I understand.” Yuuri’s breath hitched. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Victor was willing to meet him halfway. It took no time at all for Yuuri to answer. 

“Yes!” he said a little too loud. Victor’s eyes shone with surprise and excitement. 

“Well, then, I am honored to be here, Yuuri. Shall we get started?” Yuuri nodded, not quite sure what to expect. 

“Um, what exactly happens now?” he voiced out loud. Victor was rummaging through his bag, eventually brandishing a notepad and pen. Yuuri stared at it, suddenly nervous. 

“Does it bother you to touch the things that I’ve touched?” Victor asked. He was wearing gloves. Yuuri thought about it. He didn’t like to touch things that others have handled with their bare hands, and he _especially_ didn’t like touching anything that wasn’t his with his bare hands. However, they were both wearing gloves, and his phobia had yet to progress that far. 

“Not when you are wearing gloves,” he settled on. 

“Good.” Victor slid the notepad and pen in front of Yuuri. “Have you ever heard of exposure therapy?” Yuuri shook his head. “It’s a form of therapy that aims to use the phobias you have as the catalyst for treatment and potential cure.”

“So, you’re going to throw me on the ice?” Yuuri said, a deadpan stare aimed at Victor. He coughed in response. 

“Not exactly. It’s about building up your ability to accomplish small goals in order to feel comfortable facing your phobia down the road. So, what I’d like for you to do is write down ten things that you cannot do, or don’t like the thought of doing. Start with number one as the least stressful and end with ten as the most stressful.” Yuuri stared at the notepad.

_Ten things, ten things_. There were so many things Yuuri hated to do, how could he choose only ten? After a few moments of Yuuri not moving, Victor smiled and encouraged him. 

“Let’s start with number one. Is there something that you prefer not to do, but if absolutely necessary you can?” 

“Um, I don’t like using the washable chopsticks at the inn,” Yuuri said, his heart fluttering thinking about the idea of using them, even after being washed. 

“Okay, that’s good. Write it down in the number one slot.” Yuuri did so and stared at the piece of paper. “I’ll give you some time. Fill them in however you see fit.” It took him a few moments to contemplate what it was that bothered him, but eventually he was able to write down something for number 2, then three, and got through all the spots until he stopped at ten. He stared at the number, hands sweaty. Victor, who’d kept his word and sat quietly back, observed Yuuri until he was almost done. Yuuri slid the paper towards Victor. Tapping his finger against his lips distracted Yuuri as he read the list in front of him. 

_1\. Use reusable chopsticks_  
 _2\. Touch a doorknob with bare hand_  
 _3\. Walk into the onsen area_   
_4\. Use someone else’s stuff (water bottle, clothes, etc)_   
_5\. Eat and drink at a restaurant_  
 _6\. Hug someone_  
 _7\. Skate without wearing multiple layers_  
 _8\. Get in the onsen_  
 _9\. Fall on the ice without having a panic attack_

Victor looked up after reading the list, his head cocked to the side.

“What about number ten?” Yuuri stared at Victor, hands fidgeting. 

“I…couldn’t think of what the last one could be,” he said, looking everywhere except at Victor. He heard him chuckle. 

“Okay, we can leave that blank for now. It’ll be a little while until we get there anyway. But Yuuri.” Yuuri glanced up at Victor’s penetrating stare. “Promise me, if I attempt to help coach you, you will tell me what your number ten is?” After a few moments Yuuri nodded his head. Victor clapped his hands together and blinded Yuuri with a bright smile. “Perfect! Then, let’s get started.”

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a multi-chapter story, so if you enjoyed it, stick with me for each chapter!  
> Also, as you saw with both Yuuri and Victor's POV, this fic will switch between their POVs quite a lot, so hang on tight! XD


End file.
